


Two or Three or Five

by svecounia



Category: KÀ - Cirque du Soleil
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Excessive Worldbuilding, F/M, Fluff, Post-War, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23905711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svecounia/pseuds/svecounia
Summary: The Counselor's Son runs an errand to the Mountain Den; the Twin Sister accompanies for the first time since the close of the war. Worldbuilding for people who like porn and porn for people that like worldbuilding.
Relationships: Counselor's Son/Twin Sister (Kà)
Kudos: 5





	Two or Three or Five

**Author's Note:**

> For Ana and Meru, as a thanks for the sudden surge of inspiration. I hope we stay locked in this binary for a good long while.

"Not today. I have an errand." 

Rensai punctuated his words with a thin smile and the creak of the cottage door shutting in her face. Jimaya slapped her hand against it to stop it.

"I know you do. I want to come."

Her resistance didn't perturb Rensai in the slightest. He turned from the door with an easy shrug and left her in the threshold, returning to the table at the center of the room to resume packing. It was stacked with light travel supplies, and a curved dagger glinted on his hip.

"Feeling nostalgic for your most recent conquest?" He cast a smirk over his shoulder. "The Den is just shy of a day's walk. Two on those short legs of yours."

"Omare is in some squabble with the Minister of Agriculture and I'm sick of mediating their meetings." Jimaya carried on before Rensai could launch into a well-prepared criticism of her twin brother. "I'm making myself scarce before he can beg me to go in his place again. You know I can keep up."

The challenge in her tone did its work. He turned to her.

"If you insist, Your Majesty." His eyes shined – he'd never once used her title in a tone that suggested anything but mockery. "We'll bring back double, and you can explain to your Minister of Micromanagement why our firepowder stocks are sufficient for once. I'll put your hands to good use."

Changed out of her summer regalia and into simpler traveling clothes, Jimaya awaited Rensai at the northwestern gate later that morning. Twice she had to tell the sentries that he was definitely coming, and no, they didn't need to worry about her traveling alone with him, but she caught their cautious glances anyway. She crossed her arms and glared down the thoroughfare. The least he could do was show up on time.

At last she spotted Rensai's rail thin figure on the approach, one hand raised in an overly familiar wave. She'd almost relaxed until he greeted her with a clap on the back and a devilish grin at the guards, who bristled and drew their swords halfway.

"Be easy," Rensai said smoothly. "I will take excellent care of your Empress. We'll be back in five days." 

Jimaya shook off his arm and elbowed him hard in the gut. Rensai coughed and doubled over.

"It'll be tomorrow evening. And if I come back alone, it's because I kicked him off a cliff. Come along, Rensai."

She marched through the wide wooden gate, leaving the laughter and jeers of the guards in her wake as Rensai caught up with her.

"Rough start," he muttered, still hoarse.

"Don't address me so casually in front of my officers," Jimaya said simply. "Next time I'll break your nose and you'll have to wear your embarrassment for weeks."

"If you can reach it."

"It's a big target."

"I see you've brought a magnificent mood for the journey," Rensai swept a glance up and down at her, "along with the most vibrant attire in Imperial history. I know you like to think your iron will has crushed all crime and dissent in this land, but that much scarlet could attract unwanted attention."

"These are plenty simple," Jimaya said stubbornly, though even she had to admit her outfit was a bit on the vivid side. She deflected by gesturing at Rensai's chest, bare as usual apart from its extensive tattoos. "What's your excuse? It's going to get cold at night. What sort of attention are you attracting?"

"Only ever yours, Jimaya," Rensai returned, the venom in his voice thick and sweet as honey. She flushed and opened her mouth to snap back, but when one second too many passed without a retort, Rensai chuckled.

"Keep up and settle in. We have a long way to go."

But soon enough the pair of them fell into step and Rensai's beloved bickering subsided into an ebb and flow of conversation and quiet. She remarked that he'd brought his old walking stick along, so he tripped her with it. He grew sour when her attention was drawn elsewhere, so she went out of her way to appear interested in practically anything else: the condition of the road ahead, the call of a chirping bird, a colorful hanging shrine that she recognized as the Forest People's. When silence did fall, it was a warm and comfortable one. Every step carried the shadow of the massive Imperial City wall further behind them, and Jimaya felt lighter for it. Aggravating as Rensai's company tended to be, it served the admittedly soothing purpose of reminding Jimaya that she was still just a person. An Empress by birth, certainly. But still just a person.

They broke for lunch in a glen just off the path – since the snow had melted and the rivers had recovered from the spring rains, it provided cover and fresh water alike and Jimaya was grateful for a chance to refill her skin. She'd brought her own provisions, but it turned out Rensai had packed enough for the both of them.

"Save yours for the journey back. You'll be glad for the finery your station affords," he said archly, though he accepted a few grapes from her with a word of thanks. She gnawed at the tough cured meat he offered her instead without complaint.

The latter half of the day brought blazing sun and the threat of blisters: Jimaya was at once envious of the walking stick she'd mocked and furious at Rensai for having such long legs. She breathed a sigh of relief when the tree-filtered patches of sunlight were blotted out at last, only to look up and realize that they were standing in the shadow of the mountain. 

Dread gripped her insides but she steeled herself against it. The mountain was dead. Empty. She and Omare had seen to it, and the horrible things that had taken place there were long over. But when she snuck a look at Rensai and the massive rock face that framed his shoulders, she wondered for the first time whether she'd made a mistake.

"We've made good time. This way."

He led her off the path, skirting the edge of the cliffs and down towards a narrow crevice. Jimaya's footing was less certain now, not just because of the suddenly rocky terrain but because she couldn't stop glancing up at the outcroppings above. She kept imagining darting shadows and archers lying in wait.

"These side entrances aren't difficult to find for anyone who knows the mountain," Rensai explained as though he'd read her thoughts. He hopped down into the crevice and extended a hand to help her follow. "But come too close…." She jumped down beside him and he met her with a sharp jab in the chest, his lips curving into a smile. "We skewered intruders alive."

"I guess your laziest archers were on duty the last time I was here." Jimaya batted his hand away haughtily. "I found my way in just fine."

"How fortunate for us all."

The crevice gave way to a narrow passageway, and using what little dying sunlight remained outside, Rensai dug in his bag to fish out a flint and a pinch of acrid-smelling powder. Jimaya recognized it just in time to shut her eyes against the blinding flash, and when she peeked them open again she found Rensai holding a torch out to her. He traded his walking stick for a second torch from a sconce on the stone wall; he lit it from hers before continuing on. 

But the firelight was little comfort to her as they delved deeper into the mountain. Sounds were muted here, the air felt thick in her lungs, and it occurred to Jimaya that she didn't care for small spaces. She didn't want to be shut in here even with Rensai, and just as she was summoning up the strength to ask how much longer they had to go—

"Welcome to the Mountain Den, Empress Jimaya."

Rensai stepped out of the passageway and threw his arms wide. The torchlight illuminated a vast cavern full of passages snaking in every direction, high above their heads and Jimaya assumed deep below as well. A network of heavy metal catwalks spanned a central chasm so wide that their pair of torches couldn't cast light on the opposite side. 

Jimaya tried not to lose her balance: it was bigger than she remembered. Or maybe it just seemed that way because it was so dark and empty - she had only known it hot and teeming with vicious spearmen and bloodthirsty archers.

"It's…" Jimaya began but couldn't find the words. Terrifying. Massive. Skeletal.

"Never as impressive as I remember it," Rensai finished for her, and Jimaya would have felt grateful for his voice anchoring her to the present if it weren't for the sharp note of bitterness. She prayed he didn't press the subject. She didn't want to debate the war with him again, much less in the hollowed out husk of his former home.

"Come on. To the mines. Stay close."

The impossibly winding path to the mines made Jimaya wonder how she'd ever found Omare down there during her last visit. She could only assume she'd followed the heat. But the passageways were stone cold now, long chilled without the blaze in the belly of the mountain to warm them. With no hope of remembering where they were going, Jimaya kept her eyes on Rensai's back instead and hoped she was imagining its sudden stiffness.

They traveled down, down, as though the mountain were swallowing them up. At last a sharp turn spat them out at the bottom of another cavern as wide as the first, and Jimaya picked up the pace to stay in step with Rensai. He strode between the feet of a hulking metal structure that gleamed black and wicked in the flickering light. Its shining legs straddled far over their heads, the top out of reach of their two meager torches. She stopped short. 

"This is your mill."

Rensai stopped too and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Yes."

"This is where you put them to work," she continued even as her voice threatened to crack. "You held them and forced them into these cages…." 

She could hardly continue. She glanced up at the massive central axle, its arms empty of their counterweights, and a violent shiver ran through her. The cavern seemed to echo with the labored breathing of prisoners, their hisses and cries of pain as the whips cracked over their back. How many had worked there before they'd retaken their freedom? How many had died before she'd arrived to help? 

"What would you have me do, Jimaya?" 

Rensai's voice was suddenly close. She jumped – he'd come back a few paces to meet her beneath the mill. The torchlight sharpened his features and darkened his eyes. They shone with the same black as the metal above them, and it took everything in her not to step back.

"Shall I turn back time for you?" he asked. "If you find it unpleasant, then you should not have come. You knew where we were going."

"I didn't think we'd—"

"That was ignorant," he cut her off coldly. He turned from her again. "You can't gut a beast and avoid its bones. Linger here or follow. We don't have what we came for yet."

He stalked off without waiting for her. Jimaya hated him when he was like this, distant and cruel and spiteful, but the thought of Rensai in a black mood didn't unsettle her half as much as the horrible machine he'd created did. She followed after the bobbing light of his torch and tried not to imagine the mill somehow shuddering back to life behind her.

When she caught up with him, he'd left his torch on the wall outside what appeared to be some kind of cellar. She poked her head in and barely had time to choke on the dry air inside before Rensai rounded on her with a hiss.

"Keep that out of here," he snapped. "Do you want to incinerate us both?"

Jimaya leaped back and fumbled to shove her torch into the sconce opposite Rensai's, her heart pounding. She couldn't quite make out what he was doing in there, but he emerged a few moments later with two tightly woven sacks, one for each shoulder, and held them out wordlessly to Jimaya. He dropped them into her waiting hands and they nearly hit the floor: she'd been unprepared for the weight. He rolled his eyes and retreated back to the cellar. She took the time to arrange them evenly on her shoulders – the journey back to the city was going to be more challenging than she expected – and soon enough Rensai returned with his own burden to bear.

"Leave your torch," he said as he took up his own. He wasn't looking at her. "The dust alone can spark."

To Jimaya's relief they didn't pass beneath the mill again. They came close, but instead Rensai stopped outside an angular alcove Jimaya hadn't noticed on their way towards the cellar. He waited, then jerked his head impatiently when she hesitated.

She stepped into the alcove, nonplussed. Rensai touched his torch to a line framing the entrance and light sparked and whizzed upward, snaking in the darkness above and out of sight. Before Jimaya could speak he'd abandoned his torch as well, pressed in close beside her, and pulled a lever on the alcove wall. 

"What is––"

The lift shot upward with a shriek of disused metal. Jimaya would have yelped but she left her voice behind as the floor dropped away and the massive mill shrank smaller and smaller beneath them. Their only protection from the open air in front and the rushing stone wall behind them was a sparse metal frame that shuddered as though trying to shake off its own bearings. Jimaya swayed on her feet, certain she'd left her stomach on the ground below.

Rensai's arm closed around her shoulders. 

She tensed, seized by a new, somehow worse anxiety wholly separate from her fear of plunging to her death. The lift carried on with its breakneck ascent but Jimaya stayed rooted in place, suddenly deaf to to the rattle of metal and howl of air. His presence was stable and practiced. Reassuring, even. He'd probably made this trip hundreds of times and was long used to the way it – no. She didn't want to think of him like that. 

Jimaya risked a glance up at him out of the corner of her eye. Rensai's gaze was fixed firmly forward. She looked away again. 

She'd never been so close to him. 

The lift jolted to a stop and he was gone again in the single second it took for Jimaya's breath to rush back into her lungs. Still shaking – from the ascent, she told herself – she hefted the bags on her shoulders and followed in silence. 

A narrow overlook jutted out in front of her, illuminated by a pair of braziers connected to the same line Rensai had lit from the ground below. Several thick metal cables were bolted into the rock face overhead and extended down a yawning, darkened tunnel beyond the overlook, their tracks splitting into different directions just within the boundaries of the braziers' light. She found Rensai attaching a bucket to one of them, and he lowered his bags carefully inside, then sealed the lid.

"I have been short with you," he said, his back still turned.

"It's fine," Jimaya said quickly, then scolded herself for it. She wasn't exactly thrilled to be there either. They shared the error in judgment that brought them to the Den together, and only one of them was being deliberately vindictive about it. But she struggled to hold onto her ire when she looked at his silhouette against yet another dim, empty backdrop. One that she had personally hollowed out. "It's... difficult to be here, I'm sure."

"Not usually."

"Well I'm not here usually."

He gave the bucket a push – it whipped down the cable, around a sloped curve and out of sight. He turned to her again, expression unreadable, and held out his hands.

"Forget it. This is my fault as much as yours."

He didn't mean their visit. Jimaya dropped her gaze as she eased her bags off her shoulders and handed them over. A moment later a second bucket chased after the first.

"We can pick them up on our way out," Rensai said, motioning for her to follow again. "Are you hungry?"

She was. And as he led her down several more passageways and across at least four more catwalks, she felt lucky the Denborn tended to prepare their meals quickly and efficiently. Lots of rare, tender seared meats and fire-blistered vegetables, all heavily seasoned. "Better to eat quickly than rush a quality brew," Rensai had told her over tea once. It had called up images of young, freshly tattooed archers bolting down their dinners and scrabbling to the cliff face for sentry training.

She balanced her chin in her hand and wondered if Rensai had ever been like that, some pale beanpole of a recruit, as she watched him prepare dinner in one of the Den apartments. He looked more at home here than he ever had in his cottage in the Imperial City. That was to be expected, but even familiarity aside this setting suited him better. The ceilings here were taller, the hearth was wider, and it was just a little less comfortable. Very him. She thanked him when he presented her with a steaming bowl of rice so thoroughly spiced it was golden, studded with rough-chopped herbs and chilis.

Slowly, slowly, the tension between them dissipated over the course of their meal. It was the first time she'd seen Rensai make something close to an actual social effort, or at least one that wasn't focused on making his company as aggravated as possible. She'd offered to help him prepare dinner and he'd snorted derisively, then muttered that she wasn't as used to the journey as he was and might as well take her rest. He'd asked her which seasonings she preferred. And when he joined her at the table with his own bowl and asked after the goings on at court, he didn't even bring up Omare's quarrel with the Minister of Agriculture. For him, that was tantamount to a declaration of truce. 

By the time their meal was ended, they'd rediscovered the same rapport they'd enjoyed during their journey to the mountain, the playful back and forth of two that in another life might nearly have been friends. This was his old apartment, she learned, which immediately made it ten times more interesting to her. But no personal touches remained. He didn't have many in his cottage either, and when she asked where they had all gone, he only shrugged.

"What good would old things do me in a new life? I assumed my vision would never return. There are a few things left in the bedroom, but that's all."

"Oh, right, that reminds me." Jimaya stretched her arms overhead, pleasantly full from dinner and all but cozy from the tea that had followed. "Where are you going to sleep?"

Rensai nodded at the bedroom at the back of the apartment. Jimaya frowned.

"You can't seriously make me take a bedroll."

"I don't have one."

"Well I'm not going to sleep on the floor!"

"Then don't." 

He hid his amusement – poorly – behind the pretense of clearing away the teaware. Jimaya's comfortable warmth abandoned her.

"You're not being funny."

"Who's joking? I don't have keys to any other rooms––"

"Liar."

"--and even if I did, I think you'll find my people chose to bring their possessions with them when you pushed them out of their homes and into your city. Imagine that."

"Rensai." She forced her voice into an even calm. "I'm not going to share a bed with you."

He cocked his head at her, a tiny curve at the edges of his mouth. Inexplicably her mind flew to his arm holding her close in the lift. 

"You didn't pack a bedroll either. What did you think the arrangement would be? I assumed you hoped––"

"Not another word," Jimaya cut him off dangerously, and he laughed.

"So straitlaced. How royal. If you really can't stand the idea, then you are welcome to explore the Chief's Guard barracks. They won't be locked, but they will be cold."

"Or I could just order you out."

He feigned dismay. "Ah. What a tragic repeat of history that would be."

Jimaya glared at him, but when his stare turned out to be as unyielding as her own and easily twice as annoying, she snatched up her pack and marched to the bedroom. 

"Fine. But I'll break any finger that touches me."

His scoff carried after her but she was grateful for a separate set of walls: her face burned hot enough to reignite the mountain itself. Insufferable, infuriating instigator–– she scanned the room for weaknesses, something she could use to aggravate him as much as he did her. He'd said this was the only place he kept anything personal. But pots of warpaint, a small urn on a shelf, and a few mounted staves weren't going to do her any good unless she wanted to stab him. 

Her eyes fell on the bed. She scowled down at it. At least it was wide.

She forcibly pivoted to nonchalant as she began to change for the evening. She shucked off her shoes and leggings. She hadn't overreacted. It was appropriate that an empress would be affronted at having to sleep with one of the gentry. She yanked her sash loose. Of course it was reasonable for her not to have packed a bedroll – any normal person would have assumed there would be enough accommodations for two in an entire mountain. She wrapped her dressing gown tightly closed. He never meant anything by it when he teased her about attracting her attention, or when he held her close, or when he suggested she hoped to sleep next to him.

She fluffed her hair over her collar and sighed, resolute. It was her own fault for letting his games get to her. She should know better. She _did_ know better. And she wasn't going to let a little change of scenery shake her certainty.

"There's more tea waiting," Rensai drawled from the other room as if on cue. Jimaya emerged a few seconds later, detached and regal as she could muster. "I'll leave you the room to get on with whatever royal nighttime routine you maintain."

"Thank you."

"Sleep well when you do, Your Majesty."

Jimaya turned on him to retort but stopped short when he dipped into a bow. He disappeared into the bedroom before she could speak.

Robbed of a target for her irritation, she had no choice but to return to the table and its thoughtfully arranged tea setting. Truthfully her normal routine included a thorough bath, and she longed for one after the day's journey. But she wasn't about to ask for one and hand Rensai an opportunity to tell her that bathing was typically a group activity in the Den or some other lascivious lie.

There were hot springs somewhere in the mountain. He'd mentioned them to her before. Vaulted chambers that enclosed great pools of steaming mineral water, each heated warm enough to smooth away even the deepest furrowed brow thanks to the blazing heart of the mountain. He'd never said whether they were gender-specific. Even if they were, there wasn't exactly anyone around to enforce it now.

She chased the thought out of her mind.

So she sipped. And waited. And listened. She didn't really know what for. She didn't expect him to call her to bed or give any other indication that it was the right time – she wasn't sure what the "right" time would even look like. But some kind of hint might have settled her anxiety, some kind of sign that she wasn't egregiously overthinking something as simple as a sleeping arrangement. At least the tea was warm and soothing. It rounded off the edges of her apprehension, left them smooth and harder to cling to, so when fatigue won out at last she abandoned her half-finished cup and crept into the bedroom.

Rensai was already asleep. Or at least he gave the appearance of it: he laid at the far end of the bed with his back to the door, hair unbound and fanned across the pillow, dark as an oil slick. Atop the vanity lay his cowl, gloves, and pants, and his boots were tucked carefully against the wall. Heat rose in Jimaya's face. Of course she hadn't expected him to sleep in the clothes he'd arrived in, but what was the alternative? She'd hardly ever seen him in anything else except for when the dead of winter forced him into sleeves, grumbling all the way. What did Denborn sleepwear even look like? And the possibility that he wasn't wearing anything at all–– no. Even he wouldn't go that far. There was a line where her discomfort stopped being fun to him and Jimaya trusted him to toe it. Mostly. She stared at his back, her heart pounding as though he might leap up and reveal it had all been a joke at her expense.

Jimaya held her breath, lifted the corner of the duvet, and slipped into bed beside him.

He didn't move. She could hear him breathe, easy and shallow while she balanced as close to the edge of the bed as she possibly could. There was no way she'd fall asleep like this. Not in this uncomfortable position and certainly not with Rensai so close. She turned her focus to her own breathing, forcing it to slow and even out, but her pulse still raced hard enough to make her worry he'd feel it through the mattress.

Jimaya laid there, back rigid, for as long as she could stand it. Every time sleep pulled at her senses, agitation yanked her back from the edge. The fire crackled at the other end of the room but the only warmth she could focus on radiated from the person beside her. Rensai still hadn't made any indication that he noticed she'd joined him. Was he actually asleep? Was he pretending to be so she'd feel more comfortable? She couldn't imagine Rensai deliberately doing anything to put her more at ease.

But it had been so long. He'd had a hard trek too, and being here had obviously been emotionally draining on him. Maybe he was exhausted.

Slowly, careful not to upset the duvet, Jimaya shifted to face him.

Rensai's spine stood out long and languid in what little light remained, lined by the intricate tattoos that covered his sides and shoulders. For one strange moment Jimaya was seized by the realization that, should she want to, it would be all too easy to drive a knife into his back. He was right there, defenseless. Her enemy turned not-quite friend.

The carelessness of it curdled envy inside her. She was paralyzed by the fear that he might _laugh_ at her for some incomprehensible reason while he enjoyed the privilege of total vulnerability. His trust? When had she asked for that? Never, and now he'd just handed it to her unprompted like a burden he'd grown tired of carrying. He'd made it her responsibility, and now what was she supposed to do? 

The weight of it settled over her heavier than the duvet. He always found a way to make even his best qualities repellant. But thinking that way only made her feel small and somehow guilty. She lay still beneath it and watched the rise and fall of his breathing while her heart continued its rhythmic thud against her ribs. 

Rensai sighed and turned over. His eyes were open.

Jimaya froze.

He watched her. She should make some excuse, she should shift away, but her lungs couldn't hold air and her body couldn't move. She was arrested, held in place by the silence, waiting for him to smile and exalt in the awkwardness she'd created.

But Rensai said nothing.

His eyes moved over her face. Unable to hold his gaze for more than a second at a time, she noticed instead that his arms were bare. Of course they were, she'd seen his gloves on the vanity. But she'd never seen the backs of his hands before, nor the way his tattoos ended in a thick band of black at his wrists. His combat-callused knuckles, the lines of bone that led to long fingers–– it all felt wrong for her to see, like she shouldn't be allowed. She found his neck next and that was even worse: a long, pale expanse of skin unadorned by ink and unhidden from view. Exposed. The bizarre intimacy of it reminded her with startling immediacy that he was a person, too. After all the time she'd spent using him to humanize herself.

Jimaya hugged her arms tight against her chest and, every nerve in her body abuzz with tension, dared to inch closer. Still his eyes hadn't moved from hers and still she couldn't bear to meet them. Breath after agonizing breath passed in silence, until slowly he reached forward and laid a hand on her cheek. 

She kissed him. Before he could speak, before he could laugh at her, before she lost her nerve. But to her shock his arms wound around her in a crushing embrace. He growled against her lips as he kissed her back and it tore her anxiety from her chest, leaving her fluid and lithe and relieved. They groped for one another, she let him pull her body against his, and between hungry, desperate kisses a tiny moan escaped her, an irrepressible release of adrenaline. Rensai gathered her closer still.

She'd barely registered that he'd opened her dressing gown until his hand passed over her breast. He squeezed gently, then pinched the nipple. Jimaya gasped out at the jolt of pleasure – she rarely liked that but the sharpness suited him, she wanted more, and she placed her hand over his to encourage him onward. He was already so hard. She could feel his length as he moved against her, punctuating each roll and twist of his fingers, and Jimaya reveled in it. He must have been lying there waiting for her, thinking of her, aching for her, imagining what he might do to her if only she–– but her thoughts scattered when his fingers skittered down her side and stilled between her legs. Awaiting invitation. Or a plea. 

Instead Jimaya dragged him into a kiss and pressed his finger inside her herself, only to break away in a sigh as he worked his hand. Rensai's teeth grazed her throat. His breath was hot on her skin, he was impatient, and Jimaya realized hazily that yes, Denborn did have sleepwear after all as she jerked down his waistband and grasped his cock. He hissed and responded with a vicious nip at her collarbone. But between fevered kisses and greedy hands they came to an unspoken agreement that this wasn't nearly enough. After only a few moments Jimaya slung her leg over Rensai's to roll him over and straddle him, hips hovering over his. 

At last Jimaya met his eyes in full. He was staring back at her in silence, panting, in an expression of mingled awe and desperate, vicious hunger she'd never seen before on him or anyone else. It set his gaze aflame, black as burning coal, but his touch was gentle when he slid his hands to her hips. And waited. Slowly she slid herself over the length of his cock, once, twice, and when she was nearly trembling with want she took hold of him and eased herself down. 

Their hips met. A breathy, disbelieving laugh escaped him just as Jimaya clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her own. 

"Rensai!" She tried for indignance but fell comically short. "How dare you––"

But she cut herself off with a shriek when he rose up and smothered another laugh with a kiss. His smile tasted wicked and delighted. It was ridiculous, this was ridiculous, from start to finish it was absurd that she would end up here with him, in bed with him, her hands over his on her hips as she rode him. But there she was anyway, yanked down into a deep, heated kiss, then rolled over so Rensai could push moan after keening moan from her lungs. She met him with every desperate, impatient thrust, every harried whisper for him to keep going, yes, don't stop, don't you dare stop until she came with a cry and his name on her lips. She clutched his hips close until with a ragged groan he came too, deep inside her, not a care for the consequences between them. He melted back down to meet her in a soft kiss, his fingers laced in hers. 

At last Rensai groaned as he rolled off her, flopping dramatically on his back. Jimaya would have agreed if she had the energy or the words. They lay side by side in equal disarray, staring up at the ceiling as they caught their breath.

"That was unexpected," Rensai commented blankly. Jimaya nearly choked in disbelief.

"Are you serious? After everything you said on the way here, and the lift, and the bedroll argument––"

"The lift?" The smile in his voice was sickening. 

"Stop it, you know what I'm talking about."

"I promise you I don't. I was only trying to keep you from falling to your––"

"You know you're always trying to provoke me."

"Of course." He turned to her, snaked an arm around her waist, and touched a kiss to her throat. "I don't know why more people don't do the same. You're so reactive."

Jimaya tilted her chin either to turn away or give him more room – she couldn't tell the difference. He took it as the latter.

"I just don't see how all that effort adds up to 'unexpected.'"

"I've always been open to the idea," he said so offhandedly that Jimaya blushed. "But you do a very thorough job of rejecting me." He grinned against her neck. "You're lucky my feelings are so resilient."

Jimaya groaned and pushed his face away. He laughed. 

"This stays here," she warned him. "When we get back to the city, this will never have happened."

Rensai rolled his eyes. "Yes, Your Majesty. Fate forbid you enjoy yourself like a proper monarch." He sat up to tie his hair back. "Get some rest. We have a long journey back tomorrow."

The sudden change in temperature made Jimaya wish she'd waited to scold him for a little while longer. She'd been the one to kiss him first, after all. She closed her dressing gown again and busied herself with the sash, then, tentatively, "How long did you tell the gate guards this trip would take?"

She saw him glance at her out of the corner of her eye. 

"Five days. Until you corrected me."

Jimaya nodded, still fiddling with her sash. "Well. If we hurry we can probably make it in three." 

She looked up at him. He studied her for a long moment.

"Hm. That changes the schedule considerably." Rensai returned to lean over her, drawing her hands away from her sash. She could feel his smile when he kissed her. "I'll do my best."


End file.
